


The White Witch

by playlistnotrequired



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aerys Is His Own Warning, BAMF Jaime Lannister, Blackmail, Canon-Typical Violence, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Fantasy, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I think it'll be good tho, M/M, Mentors, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Pre - Robert's Rebellion, Pre-Canon, Rhaegar is MVP, Robert's Rebellion, Scheming, Why do I get myself into writing fics with such long plots, potion brewing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-09-25 02:07:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20368870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playlistnotrequired/pseuds/playlistnotrequired
Summary: Sabryna was once just another little bird in Varys' flock, but when she discovers she can make use of her town talents, her own reputation brings her to the Kingdoms of Westeros with Varys during the reign of King Aerys II. Sabryna must use her cunning to not only survive but thrive in this new land of liars and cheaters. And yet, she finds herself forming relationships she could never dream of, trusting those whom she thought she could never trust, and loving those whom she thought she would never love, let alone be allowed to love.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prologue takes place at the beginning of season seven of the game of thrones TV show, while the rest of the story takes place during the reign of the Mad King.

“The White Witch?” Danaerys asked. The clouds gathered overhead and turned the sea to an angry grey. She was pleased, seeing as she herself was Danaerys Stormborn, she thought it only fitting that a storm was brewing to welcome her back to her home, to welcome her back to Dragonstone. 

“Yes,” Varys said grimly, “she was once a… pupil of mine. I brought her with me to King’s Landing when your father summoned me to serve on his small council. But that was a different time. She grew to stand on her own. She’s smart, and one of the most cunning women I’ve ever met. The White Witch… Sabryna is a very fickle woman. Many say that she trusts no one. I myself can only say that when I last saw her, she certainly no longer trusted me.” 

Danaerys raised her pale brows, “You certainly sing her praises Lord Varys, and yet you say she does not trust you. I have many in my court who are loyal to me, and I have enough spies already. Why do I need another shadowy figure whispering into my ear?” 

“Your grace, the White Witch will bring you the allies you need. Should others see her standing with you, they will follow you. I know that for certain the Martells and the Tyrells will join your cause.” 

“How does one of your little birds gone rogue manage to have an influence of that magnitude?” 

“As I said, she has remarkable skill in the ways of… diplomacy.” Danaerys still had questions but she could see from the look on Varys’ face that she would not get answers she liked. One of her advisors was presenting her with an opportunity to get ahead, she was not one to squander such a thing so quickly. 

“How could I possibly trust one of your little birds gone rogue to stay loyal to me?” Danaerys placed her hands firmly on the table in front of her, her fingers splaying over Winterfell. 

“You are Danaerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. When Sabryna lived in King’s Landing with me, she and your brother grew very close. Rhaegar was everything to her. In a city full of liars she found the one person who she knew would tell the truth; she loved him more than anyone else, that kind of loyalty could not be bought for all of the gold in the Iron Bank. And Rhaegar loved her in return.” 

Danaerys looked at the eunuch in confusion, “I thought my brother was married to Elia Martell?” 

Varys’ smile did not reach his eyes, “The love between Sabryna and Rhaegar was not that of husband and wife. She was the sister he never had.” 

Danaerys stiffened, “You are wrong in that account, Lord Varys. My brother has a sister.” 

“Forgive me, your grace,” Varys bowed slightly, “but it is the only way I could think to tell you just how much she meant to him. She was not meant to trust him the way she did. I always told Sabryna never to trust anyone, that was how things were done in the days when the Mad King ruled the Seven Kingdoms. But Rhaegar was different, he understood her in a way no one else did. There is much of him in you, the White Witch will see that, and when she does, she will follow you to the ends of the known lands.” Danaerys looked at the map beneath her fingertips, with the aid of both Dorne and the Reach, the people might see her as one of their own. 

“Lord Varys, send a raven and summon her to Dragonstone. I am curious as to what she has to say.” 

Varys bowed and rose with an expression on his face that was equal parts dread and amusement, “A dove will be sent, your grace. She is not called the White Witch for nothing.” 

Danaerys had waited for a week, then she waited another, and another still. The dove that had been sent out with the royal summons had not returned, and part of her wondered whether it had even made it to its destination. Where had the White Witch been hiding all these years? It was early in the morning on a grey day when she saw it. From the window of her chambers, Danaerys saw a ghost standing on the beaches of Dragonstone. They drifted back and forth along the sands and left no footprints, their long white robes whipping behind them in the wind. She called to her guards to accompany her down to the beach. 

“Your grace, perhaps you should dress in your cloak. It is cold and-” 

“Take me to the beach, now.” The guards obeyed her and within minutes she felt the damp sand under her boots. The ghost was now standing still, facing out to sea. As Danaerys drew closer she saw the dark grey waves lapping at its feet, wetting the bottom of her robes and turning them the same color as the cloudy sky above. Everything about her was as white and pure as fresh-fallen snow, her hair, her skin, the fur lining the hood of her cloak, and the boots that sunk into the sand. Danaerys stopped several paces away from the woman and motioned to her guards to stay put. Slowly, carefully, she approached. The woman was very tall, and her features were grim and cold. Her pale skin was marred by a long scar that ran across her left cheek. 

“Are you the White Witch?” Danaerys was surprised at how childish she sounded speaking those words. She breathed out a cloud of white fog in the early morning air. The woman turned to look at her, and her hazel eyes were as cold and hard as dragonglass. 

“You called for me, Danaerys Targaryen?”


	2. In the Beginning

There were rules. There had always been rules, but as she grew older Sabryna realized that there were more and more of them. Never speak a word of what you do to anyone, never accept payment from anyone but the Spider, if someone is following you, kill them on site, never trust anyone outside of the circle, don’t steal, don’t run away, don’t give anyone any reason to notice you, and the most important rule: don’t go off on your own. Sabryna had broken that rule several years ago, but the success she found by doing so far outranked the punishment she received when Varys found out she was marketing her services in other ways. She wasn’t quite sure how it had started, perhaps it was the crazy old man who thought she was the ghost of his dead daughter and prayed at her feet for his wish to come true. Sabryna pitied the delusional old man and so she granted his wish. Tribute was left for her outside a temple and she collected it. 

“You think he really thought I was a ghost?” she asked Varys one night. 

Varys looked up from what he was scribbling on parchment and looked Sabryna up and down. He had found her in her early childhood, old enough to run and spy and speak, but too young to understand the ways of the world, and so another little bird was born. But Sabryna proved to be a natural and quickly rose through the ranks and stayed with him far longer than any other child. She was almost 11 now and was on the brink of becoming a woman. She was tall and slim, almost fragile due to the small amount of food she received on a regular basis. Her sallow cheeks, pale skin, long wispy hair the color of old Valyria and pale white robes did give her a sort of ghostly appearance. If she had possessed grey or silver eyes Sabryna would have entirely made of silver and ivory, but her eyes were a muted hazel color that reminded Varys of woodland moss. 

“No,” Varys said and looked back down at his parchment. 

Sabryna seemed offended, “No? But when he saw me he fell to his knees and praised me like I was sent by R'hllor himself.”

“Some people are fools.” Sabryna crossed her arms over her chest and sank back down into her chair. “You look like a Red Priestess drained of her color in every sense.” 

“A White Priestess then?” 

“But you do not preach the whims of the Lord of Light.” 

“I made that old man’s wish come true… perhaps I am not a priestess but, a witch.” 

Varys’ eyes flared up before he shook his head and continued to write, “Then be the White Witch, if that is who you choose to be. But don’t go off and start practicing real magic, then we will have a bigger problem on our hands than you breaking the rules.” 

“Am I still getting punished for that?” 

“What do you think?” 

Sabryna had taken to the nickname “The White Witch”. She abandoned all of her robes that weren’t the color of freshly fallen snow and took extra care to keep them as clean as possible. As difficult as this was in the city of Lys, she was oddly proud of how she managed. Slowly but surely, she separated herself from Varys. He still gave her room and board and Sabryna helped supervise the little birds, but she no longer was one herself. She operated on her own accord, granting wishes in return for tribute, left at the biggest sept in Lys. Food, coin, some patrons even brought her white and silver silks to expand her arsenal of robes. Thievery and poaching soon gave way to include killings as well, most of which Sabryna performed herself, but she never got over the bitterness that filled her mouth as she watched the light drain from their eyes. Her white robes were quickly all stained with red, so the day of a killing, she took the black. A few of the little birds would tease her of becoming a crow, like the ones that froze to death at the wall in Westeros, but Sabryna turned her nose up at them. The little birds were not the only ones who noticed, however. Sabryna was meeting a potential sponsor in a dark alleyway; she spotted the nervous man fidgeting with his hands. She dropped down from the rooftop, the dark fabric fluttered down around her, a large hood covered her face but her thin white hair hung down to her waist. 

“ _ A-Are you her _ ?” The man spoke in a variant of Valyrian that Sabryna recognized as coming from Slaver’s Bay. Valyrian was the first language she’d ever learned, her accent even carried over when she spoke the tongue of Westeros. She gave the man a mock-curtsy. 

“ _ You called for me? _ ” 

“ _ I did, but it looks as if you have other business to attend to. _ ”

“ _ What makes you think that? _ ” 

The man looked Sabryna up and down, his crusted eyes lingering on her hips and breasts, “ _ You are a crow, not a dove. Someone has already died or is about to. They say you mourn your victims, a dove may be the one to enter your home, but if she leaves as a crow, no one will ever know what became of you. _ ” Sabryna was silent, “ _ Am I wrong? _ ”

“ _ No, I suppose you’re not. I did have business today, but whatever you require can also be completed before sunrise. _ ”

“It’s becoming dangerous for you.” 

Sabryna looked up from her steaming cup of tea at Varys, “What do you mean?” 

“You are a child, not a bounty hunter, and yet that is what you have chosen to become.” 

“I have become what you wanted me to become.” 

Varys raised his invisible brows at Sabryna and regarded her with extreme skepticism, “I wanted you to be a little bird for a few years only, upon which time you would be killed so what you knew would die with you. But instead you have chosen to open your own practice, becoming far too well known across all of Essos, and your reputation has now spread to Westeros as well.” 

“...I did not know.”

“Of course you did not, you are careless. If it were not for my protection, you would be dead ten times over by this time tomorrow.” 

Sabryna looked down in shame, “I thought I was doing well.” 

“Because that is what I wanted you to think. I thought that in time you might be able to learn how to do what you want to do on your own. That I would be able to guard you from those who seek to hurt until you were ready. But something has come up.” Varys looked at her, the amount of herbs burning in the room covered everything in a hazy layer of smoke. Varys’ steely gaze was hidden from her, and in that moment, Sabryna thought to ask a question for the first time in her life. 

“Why don’t you just let them kill me?” 

Varys was silent for a long while before he finally spoke, “Because I see myself in you. I see someone with potential that if goes unused, will be extinguished long before it has the chance to grow into a magnificent flame.” 

“And you intend to fuel my fire?” 

“I will need a replacement when I am gone. This world will collapse in on itself otherwise.” Sabryna nodded, taking a tentative sip of her tea, it was hot and spicy and it burned the tip of her tongue, but she did now show any reaction. 

“What has come up?” 

“A royal summons.” Sabryna dropped her cup in surprise, Varys’ hand shot out and he caught it, tea spilled from the top and scalded his hand, but he didn’t even wince. “His Grace, Aerys of House Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm has requested my presence on his Small Council. I cannot refuse his offer.” 

“When do you leave for King’s Landing?” 

“I think you mean to say when do  _ we  _ leave.” 

Sabryna blinked at her mentor, “You’re taking me with you?” Varys nodded, and there was something that flashed across his face for a mere second that Sabryna could have sworn was a smile. 

“It would be most beneficial for us both. We leave within a fortnight.” Sabryna nodded and did not ask any more questions; asking too many questions would show exactly how great of an interest she had in Westeros, King’s Landing and the King himself.

Varys did not take much with him on his journey to King’s Landing, and Sabryna took even less. They sailed across the Narrow Sea together on a single ship, filled with clothes, some jewels, and a handful of Varys’ most trusted little birds. Sabryna found herself taking a liking to the sea, it moved and swayed the boat and many of the passengers grew sick of its constant rocking but Sabryna never succumbed. Every morning she would rise early and watch the sunrise over the waves, laughing as the sea sprayed its salty tears at her. Her hair grew wavy from the salt after weeks of travel, and Varys began to comment on the darkening of her skin due to her constant time in the sun. But after what seemed to be countless days, the horizon bore a sight that differed from the emerald and sapphire hues that coated the waters. Instead, when Sabryna tied back her hair with a band of leather and donned her silken white robes, she saw land on the horizon. She quickly turned on her heels and made to run to Varys’ chambers, to inform him that they would reach King’s Landing by mid-afternoon, but she stumbled as her mentor was already on the deck of the ship. His skin smelled of lilacs and his robes were emblazoned with gold.

“Varys,” Sabryna said, surprised and smiling. Varys did not smile in return.

“I have no doubt that you have spotted it.”

Sabryna turned back to grip the edge of the ship, staring at the dot that was to become her new home, “I think I am feeling a bit more excited than I should.”

“You are,” Varys replied simply, “My dear, King’s Landing is not a place where you should make yourself comfortable. There will be enemies everywhere, even right next to the Iron Throne, if not sitting atop it.”

“You speak of the King.”

“Yes, I do. You have no doubt heard of his madness.” Sabryna said nothing. “My little birds tell me that the stories and rumors do not capture the half of the King’s madness. He is as liberal with wildfire as most men are with their cocks in a brothel. King Aerys knows of the extent my power reaches in Essos, and he wishes to use it to extend his own power in Westeros. He is paranoid and secretive, the King believes that his allies are turning against him, even those as close as his own kin. That is why he has called upon me.”

“His own kin? You mean someone like Prince Rhaegar?”

“Indeed, from what my little birds tell me Aerys’ trust of the last dragon grows weaker by the day.”

“And do we intend to take sides in this matter?” Sabryna asked. She breathed in deep and let the salt fill her lungs.

“I have not decided on this yet. If I find it in my power to pacify the King and guarantee that his eldest son will make for a good ruler, then that is what we shall do. If I decide that both Rhaegar and the King are unfit to sit upon the Iron Throne, then actions will be taken accordingly. The side we are on, dear protégée, is whatever side will put the most coin in a poor man’s pocket and give him faith that those who govern him will protect him in times of need. I have taught you not to trust anyone, and you have learned this well, but in King’s Landing there is another thing you must be wary of.” Varys pulled one of Sabryna’s long silver hairs out of its leather binding and rolled it between his fingers. “You will be strange to them. You are strange to most people in the Free Cities, but here will be a different kind of strangeness. You are 15 and a woman grown, even if your mind is not at its full potential. To those in King’s Landing, you are a rare commodity, a gem to be collected, a cheap imitation of a Targaryen, you will be no means be a genuine article, but those who seek to take you will not care. When they look at you Sabryna, all they will see is something to be bought, and there are a great many lords in these Seven Kingdoms that have plenty that they’re willing to pay.” 

Sabryna’s hazel eyes were wide, she had experienced a fair few encounters with the types of men Varys spoke of. Those who wanted to stick their grimy hands under her ivory robes and get a taste of what the White Witch had to offer. But they had always been easy to outmaneuver, avoid, or in some cases, kill on site. However, Sabryna felt a difference in her mentor’s tone when he spoke. Those who they would encounter in King’s Landing would be different. Yes, there would still be those beggars who were too poor for the brothel and tried to take everything by force, but they would always be there. Now there were lords and knights who held positions of power. Sabryna was in no position to deny them, let alone retaliate and plead her case to the king. She swallowed the lump in her throat. 

“What would you like me to do about them?” 

“Try and stay out of trouble I expect,” Varys hummed, as if this were as simple as discussing the weather, “Trouble might come looking for you. Don’t engage with it. That part is imperative. Speak only the tongue of Westeros. Try not to appear foreign. And if despite all of this you still wind up unwillingly pregnant with some Lord’s spawn, tell me. I have certain measures in place that could be of use to you should the situation present itself.” 

“A knife to slit my own throat?” Sabryna mumbled. Varys merely looked at her. The boat docked and the crew busied themselves with unloading the ship of its cargo. Varys and Sabryna descended into the bustle at the port. Her ears were assaulted by the harsh Rs and Es and As of the Westerosi language. She spoke it with fluency, although she had never heard so much of it in once place before. Varys guided her to an immaculate horse-drawn carriage. The servant drew opened the door and helped Sabryna inside. Sunlight shone through the geometric wooden patterns that formed the windows, and everything was lined or embroidered with silk threads boasting brilliant colors. Her pupils dilated at the sight of such wealth and she pushed down the urge to slip the golden door handles into the pockets of her robes. 

“This is the King’s finery,” Varys looked over the interior of the carriage with calculating eyes, “Did you expect anything less?” Sabryna looked at him. Varys had always taken pride in his appearance, even though his head and face had always been free of hair, he dressed in fine silks and smelled of lavender. Sabryna knew it made some feel dizzy or nauseous when they were around him, but to her, it simply smelled of familiarity. The carriage stopped moving and Sabryna eagerly peered out of the wooden grate and gazed upon the Red Keep for the first time. “Keep your thoughts to yourself,” Varys reminded her as they exited, “Do not give them anything to hurt you with. Lys might have been dangerous, Sabyrna, but King’s Landing is deadly.” She nodded her head silently as they began to ascend the steps to meet the king. 

  
  



	3. Arrival

The walls of the Red Keep loomed over her. Sabryna felt small, a white snowflake of winter being melted by the walls forged by Dragonfire. Pillars stretched into arcs above her head and windows were carved into shapes and stained with color. She had never seen a place more deserving of a ruler. The man who was guiding them through the maze of corridors was dressed in golden armor with a white cloak thrown over his shoulders: a kingsguard. He had said nothing to them when they’d arrived, merely looked at them with what Sabryna knew to be disdain, and began guiding them to the throne room. The trio reached a large set of double doors, the kingsguard did not hesitate to open them. He strode through them with confidence, leaving Sabryna and Varys to trail behind. 

As soon as the doors to the throne room opened, Sabryna was left in awe at the mere scale of it. The long and menacing corridor was lined with pillars that flamed at the base. Massive dragon skulls were suspended from the ceiling, bones as black as night. The biggest one, which Sabryna knew to be Balerion the Dread, seemed to gnash his fangs at her and Sabryna felt herself shiver. Their footsteps echoed in the silent room as they approached the throne. It was every bit as foreboding as Sabryna had heard, the blades of Aegon’s enemies stretched forty feet into the air, still as sharp as the day they were used against the conquerer. They were twisted and bent into seven uneven steps that lead up to the seat of the throne, and in it sat the Mad King himself, Aerys Targaryen. 

Even just glancing at him from the other end of the hall Sabryna felt her skin crawl in disgust. His hair, long and silvery-white like hers, was limp and greasy. It hung in ropes about his neck and shoulders and framed his hollow face. The king looked as if he had not slept in days. Deep purple crescents rested under his eyes and made his colorless skin seem all the more sallow. His nails extended several inches beyond his fingers and were as yellow as his crooked teeth. But it was his eyes that made Sabryna the most unnerved. They were violet, and they were as sharp and menacing as the dragon skulls that hung above him. To his left stood who Sabryna assumed to be his sister, Queen Rhaella. The family resemblance between the two was striking. They had the same pale hair and paler skin. Queen Rhaella was slim and beautiful, but her lilac eyes were sad and her lips did not move from their silent display of melancholy. To his right was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, tall, built like a warrior, and stunningly handsome. His hair gleamed in the sunlight and his features were angular and stern. He towered over his mother and his father too, Sabryna expected. His eyes were sharp and discerning, although they did not meet Sabryna’s when she glanced at him.

The kingsguard stopped suddenly and Sabryna tried not to trip over her long robes. 

“Your grace,” the kingsguard said. His voice was deep and smooth, “May I present from Essos per your request, Varys the Spider and his apprentice, the White Witch.” In Westerosi language, Sabryna realized how mystical she sounded. The White Witch who could move silently in the night and turned to a crow when they were about to kill. Her thoughts were interrupted when the kingsguard stepped aside and Varys began to bow deeply. Sabryna curtsied and kept her eyes trained on the floor, not wanting to look at the king any longer than she had to. 

“It was an honor to receive your summons, your grace,” Varys said. 

“You are the most talented spymaster in all of Westeros and Essos,” the king’s voice was like sandpaper on glass, and his words brimmed with malice. Even though he spoke praise, to Sabryna’s ears it still sounded like criticism, “You will reside here, in King’s Landing and serve me as Master of Whispers on my small council.” 

“I would be honored to serve you, your grace.” Varys bowed once again, “I will perform my duties as Master of Whispers to the best of my ability.”

“You will,” King Aerys said quickly, “Secrets are important to me.” He grinned, and Sabryna felt as though he could see straight into her mind and read her every thought, “I have no doubt that it will be a dangerous position, but should you die,” his penetrating gaze shifted towards Sabryna and she felt herself stiffen, “you’ve brought me a replacement, and a fascinating one at that. The White Witch… entering as a dove,” he burst into laughter and the sound made Sabryna’s stomach tie itself into knots. “I’ve heard much of you, though I was not told you were Valyrian. Perhaps I should wed you to my son.” Sabryna saw Rhaegar’s muscles tense beneath his armor. Aerys extended a clawed hand and beckoned to her. 

“Come forward, child.” Every nerve in her body was screaming at her to run, run away as fast as you can and get on the boat back to Essos. Sabryna stepped forward. “Don’t be shy, closer.” She stepped closer still, and closer and closer until she was standing close enough to the Iron Throne to touch it. The King rose from his perch and descended the steps. He studied her face frantically. Before she had time to react, Aerys reached out his hand and grabbed her by the chin. She felt his long and unruly nails digging into her skin, scratching at its surface. He turned her face back and forth, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Your Queen has been…  _ unsuccessful _ ,” he spat the word and some of his saliva landed on Sabryna’s cheek. She tried her hardest not to flinch, “In giving me even so much as a single daughter to marry my son. But you,” Aerys bared his teeth, “You might do nicely for him. What do you say? Would you like to fuck a prince, girl?” In the corners of her vision, Sabryna saw Rhaegar shift back and forth on his feet, but he said nothing. And his face remained as stern and sullen as when she first entered. Sabryna did not know what to say; she didn’t even know if she was allowed to speak, but she was spared coming up with an answer when King Aerys’ gaze narrowed and his expression soured. 

“Why don’t you have the eyes?” He asked. Sabryna knew he was referring to the hazel that tinted her iris’ instead of the violet that came with the blood of old Valyria. When she said nothing, Aerys tightened his grip, “Speak.”

“A trait from my father, your grace,” Sabryna whispered.

“Hm, an unfortunate one. Nevermind then, you will not do.” Aerys pushed and Sabryna tumbled back down the steps and lay in a heap at the foot of the Iron Throne. Her pale white hair hung in front of her face and she tried to stop herself from crying. “My son will have pure Valyrian blood or he will have nothing.” Sabryna looked at Prince Rhaegar only to find him staring back at her. His eyes were dark like his father’s and she could see the resemblance between the two, but Rhaegar looked… sane. She saw the hesitation in his face and the twitch of his hands: he wanted to help her. Sabryna pushed herself to her feet and walked slowly back to stand next to Varys. 

“That will be all.” Varys bowed again and Sabryna curtsied, ignoring the shock of pain coming from her ankle. 

“Thank you for your generosity, your grace,” Varys said. He turned and walked out of the throne room, leaving Sabryna to stumble out behind him. The large double doors thunked shut and Sabryna pulled up the white hood on her robes, covering her face. She did not want to see anyone, nor did she want anyone to see her. 

“I do not wish to do that ever again.” She whispered harshly in Valyrian to Varys when the Kingsguard closed the door to Varys chambers and finally left them alone, “That was humiliating.” 

Varys sat down at his desk and began to shift through rolls or parchment, “You needed to be humiliated. And speak the common tongue.” 

“What are you talking about? I didn’t deserve any of that.” 

“To survive here you must understand what it means to be invisible,” Varys looked up at her, his eyes sharp. “My young apprentice, you have been visible for most of your life, but now you will learn to blend into the shadows and draw no attention to yourself. Why do you think the King beckoned you forward? You are a beacon of innocence he wishes to corrupt, and his desires have only been fueled by the fire of his madness.”

Sabryna sighed deeply and sat down in the chair across from Varys. She pulled a strand of her long white hair between her fingers and tugged on it, gently. “What exactly has driven the King so mad?” 

Varys looked at her for a long moment before deciding what he should tell her, “You and I are the only people we can trust, so it is wise of me to tell you what I know. However, you must remember,” Sabryna’s mentor leveled her with a cold, hard, stare, “never to repeat these words.” Sabryna nodded hastily, and Varys continued. “King Aerys wasn’t always  _ The Mad King _ , no one knows quite what did him in. Witnessing the death of three sons and two daughters would drive anyone mad. And do you remember the Defiance of Duskendale?” Again Sabryna nodded, remembering hearing of it from the little birds on the streets of Lys only a year ago. “Half a year King Aerys was their prisoner, and when someone as simple as Lord Denys Darklyn can throw you down and treat you worse than a beggar, well, one tends to need to exercise their control and display their power every hour of the day. It does not help that the king distrusts his own hand.” 

“Tywin Lannister?” Sabryna asked. 

Varys hummed, “Indeed.” 

“Is he a bad hand?”

“No, young one, Lord Tywin Lannister is the best hand of the king that any noble could want. But… with someone that skilled so close to the throne, they might as well be sitting in it instead of the King himself. His majesty refused to wed Prince Rhaegar to Lord Tywin’s daughter as well. My little birds told me he called the mighty Lord Tywin a servant to the crown, and that no servant’s daughter would wed his son.”

“He seems very picky about who Prince Rhaegar will marry,” Sabryna observed. 

“He is, but you would be too if he was your eldest son. Prince Viserys is only two years old, there is no telling whether he will live beyond childhood.”

“I will be careful next time,” she looked down at her white robes, “Perhaps I should change into something else.” 

“That would be sensible.” 

Sabryna stood and nodded her head lightly at Varys, who had already returned to reading the scrolls. She closed the door behind her with a soft click but jumped when she found the kingsguard waiting right outside the doorway. 

“H-Hello,” she stuttered. The kingsguard looked at her with the same contempt as when he first saw her. Now that Sabryna was looking at him, she could more clearly see his features. They were soft for a warrior’s, even though he was clearly built with muscle under his armor. Curly brown locks framed his face and his eyes were a gentle hazel. 

“Would you like me to show you to your quarters?” He asked. 

Sabryna blinked, “Yes, thank you.” 

“Do not thank me yet. I will only do this for you once.” The Kingsguard began to walk down the hall, and Sabryna extended her stride to keep up with him. They had not been walking long when the kingsguard turned a corner and nearly ran into a young woman. He stopped abruptly and Sabyrna stepped next to him. 

“Ser Garrett, you must be careful in these halls.” The girl said. Her voice was high and whiney, and even though she had spoken less than ten words, Sabryna already felt the beginnings of a headache. She turned her gaze to Sabryna. The girl’s golden brows shot up in surprise, “Don’t you look like a spectacle.” She looked her up and down, taking in her ghostly appearance. 

Sabryna suspected the girl was someone important, or someone important’s daughter. She looked to be a year or two younger than Sabryna. Her golden hair hung to her waist in gentle waves and her red gown swished gently across the stone floors. Her green eyes were like a cat and Sabryna saw great suspicion in them. She made an educated guess, “I beg your pardon, Lady Cersei. Ser Garret was just leading me to my chambers.” 

“Oh,” Cersei’s feline eyes narrowed, “Why do you sound like that? You certainly don’t look Dornish.”

“I am from Lys, my Lady.” 

Realization dawned in Cersei’s eyes and a fake smile appeared on her lips, “You must be the foreigner his majesty sent for. Master of Whispers, was it?” 

“Actually-” Sabryna attempted to speak but Cersei chattered on. 

“Amazing how the King is able to put trust in anyone that’s not from his own kingdom. After all, you never know where a foreigner’s allegiances lie. I hope you remember your place in all this.”

“Lady Cersei,” Ser Garret interrupted, “forgive me but we must be getting on.” 

“Yes, of course.” Cersei waved her hand, dismissing them, “I must be on my way as well.” And she disappeared around the corner. Ser Garrett paused for a moment before letting out a sigh. 

“Let us continue on.” The pair continued on through the halls before Sabryna spoke.

“I’m sorry.” 

The guard’s expression softened slightly, “Why?” 

Sabryna looked sheepishly at the floor, playing innocent, “She does not like me. Perhaps if I were not here she would not have chastised you.”

The kingsguard stopped walking and took a deep breath, the annoyance was gone from his face. Yes, that’s it, Sabryna thought, tell me what has the young lion’s tail in a twist. 

“It was not your fault. Lady Cersei is not usually so coarse. She does not think fondly of me. That was the reason for her behavior.” 

Inside her mind, Sabryna smiled, “Why would she have reason to dislike you?” She could feel a difference in gathering information here already. In Essos, people would give up information if it made them look better; here, they’d tell her things if it made others look worse. 

“My name is Ser Garrett Flowers. My father is Garth Tyrell, Lord Seneschal of Highgarden, but I am still a bastard. Lady Cersei does not think it right that someone like me has a place in the kingsguard.” Ser Garrett stopped outside of a tall wooden door, “Here we are.” 

Sabryna made no move to enter her room, “Have you skill in sword and riding?” 

Ser Garrett looked down at her, a bit puzzled, “I am a kingsguard. Of course I do.” 

“Do you think that is the only reason for Lady Cersei’s dislike of you? You can protect the King as well as any true nobleman’s son, why should that matter?” Ser Garrett’s bewilderment only grew as Sabryna continued speaking. She smiled at him, “Just a little something to think about. Thank you for your guidance, Ser Garrett.” She opened the door to her chambers and stepped inside, “I’ll be sure to find my way on my own next time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of me actually enjoys writing Aerys, he's just such a cruel person in a position of absolute power, it'll be fun to see what I can do with that ;). Also, Garrett Flowers is a real asoiaf character. He was supposed to join the kingsguard when Tommen was crowned King but Cersei objected (unsurprisingly). Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Chapter 3 will be up soon, make sure leave comments and kudos, and thanks for reading!


	4. The Library

Sabryna had always prided herself on being a quick learner. She’d achieved fluency in several languages in the Free Cities despite never having received formal training, and after only a few months of practice she was able to reduce her movements to those of a silent shadow while she hunted for victims. It was the same in King’s Landing, over the next several weeks she learned the names and faces of most of the royal family and court that wandered the halls during the day, and while she was still learning the names of the kitchen maids, she knew most of the staff as well. Surprisingly, she had found most pleasant company in the White Cloaks. If she had an open afternoon she’d follow them around, playing harmless tricks and pranks. The servants would get in trouble if they did not finish their work, and the nobles could not take a joke. Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, was an older man with stern features, but Sabryna had discovered he had a soft spot for her. Varys had been pleased, Sabryna had been delighted. She would jest with him in the hallways and Ser Gerold would laugh and tell her to stay out of trouble. Sabryna would smile and never promise to do so, but she always said she would try. 

The White Cloaks also proved to be invaluable sources of information. They were posted outside of doors all day and head most of the goings on in the Red Keep. They sat in on small council meetings and ran late night errands for Lords and Ladies with secrets. They did all of this, and they had no one to speak to about it, for they were rarely all together. But when Sabryna would pop up, dressed in loose white fabrics or those the color of the stones on the floor, with an eager ear and a calming smile, they would tell her a story. Most of them Sabryna already knew, the little birds fluttered about the Red Keep and gave information to both her and Varys. But every once in a while she would hear something from one of them that no bird had heard word of before. Then, transforming into a crow, Sabryna would lock her talons around the story and refuse to budge until the White Cloak told her the whole of it.

“Come on, Ser Garrett,” Sabryna moaned, pulling lightly at his white cloak, “Now you must tell me.” Sabryna had found him patrolling the hallways of the lower levels of the castle and had been walking with him for several minutes now. 

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have something better to do than bother me?” 

Sabryna bit her bottom lip and stared sheepishly at the floor. She didn’t miss how Ser Garrett’s eyes lingered on her movements, “I was about to take my lunch. I thought it might be nice to stop by and see my friend, that’s all.” 

Ser Garrett laughed quietly, “You think us friends?” 

“Well, if you do,” Sabryna glanced up at him. 

Ser Garrett swallowed, “We’ve known each other nearly three months now, ‘course we’re friends.” 

“So tell me. Why are you worrying yourself about Prince Rhaegar?” 

Ser Garrett sighed before glancing around to make sure they were alone, “He’s been in the library the past week. Not just for a few hours either, he barely leaves the place now. I heard from Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan that he used to be like that when he was younger. Bookish, you know? But he hasn’t spent so much time there in years.” 

_ I know all that. _ Sabryna thought.  _ Tell me more. _ The little birds had informed Sabryna already of the prince’s strange habits these past few months. He had also been receiving a number of letters that he didn’t want anyone to know about. The contents of these letters was still unknown, but Sabryna was determined. She walked a little ways in front of Ser Garrett and naturally guided them to the library. The two turned the corner to find Ser Arthur Dayne waiting at its entrance. 

“Hello Ser Arthur,” Sabryna smiled. Ser Arthur looked at her sternly. He was the only White Cloak who still kept his guard up around Sabryna. Ser Arthur was loyal to the crown and Prince Rhaegar and nothing else; he had not forgotten where Sabryna had come from. “What are you up to?” 

“Is it really any of your concern, Witch?” His voice was stern, and the great sword called Dawn glinted in the light as it rested across his back. 

“I was just curious,” Sabryna shrugged. 

“Evidently,” Ser Arthur mused, “you seem to be curious about everything involving other people these past few months.” 

“Isn’t that what friends do?” 

“We are not friends,” said Ser Arthur. 

Sabryna shrugged, “If you do not wish to trust me that is your prerogative. But if you will excuse me I have some business to attend to in the library.” 

Ser Arthur’s violet eyes narrowed, “What kind of business?” 

“The kind that isn’t any of yours. Now if you’ll excuse me,” and Sabryna slipped easily past the white cloak and opened the door to the library. It latched shut behind her, but she hesitated, waiting to hear the words exchanged between Ser Arthur and Ser Garrett. 

“Why can’t you leave her be?” Sabryna heard Ser Garrett’s voice through the door, “She’s just a girl.” 

“She is not just a girl, Garrett,” Ser Arthur’s voice was severe, “You forget that she was one of Varys’ little birds. You forget she made a name for herself with her cunning and innocent act, that’s why she’s here.” 

“Just try and get to know her,” Ser Garrett responded, “She’s just a little mischievous.”

Sabryna smiled. She liked Ser Garrett. He was easy to manipulate and somewhat simple in his mind, but he was kind, and Sabryna had a sneaking suspicion that he thought she was pretty. She stepped away from the door and silently moved through the library. Shelves of books stretched up towards the ceiling, and several windows and skylights let in the sun’s light. There weren’t very many candles to reduce the risk of setting the books on fire.  _ Come on,  _ Sabryna thought,  _ he’s got to be in here somewhere. _ The library seemed to be empty, but Sabryna could hear the sounds of a single person Flipping through the pages of a book and the scratch of a single quill on parchment. After what Ser Garrett had told her, Sabryna had decided that she would see for herself what Prince Rhaegar was planning. Her suspicions were only confirmed when she saw Ser Arthur Dayne, the prince’s closest friend guarding the entrance to the library. The sounds grew closer and she finally caught a glimpse of him. 

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was hunched behind a pile of books, his long white hair twisted away from his face and pinned behind his head. He had been here for some time however, as the strands were beginning to escape their prison and hung in thin waves around his face. Sabryna approached him from behind, silent as a shadow. 

“Good afternoon, my prince,” she smiled. Rhaegar jumped in his seat and turned to look at her, the expression behind his eyes turning sour. 

“What are you doing here, White Witch?” 

“Just looking for some reading. May I ask what brings you here?” 

Rhaegar’s eyebrows furrowed, “You may not.” 

“I think I’ll join you then,” Sabryna picked up the top book from his pile, “I’ve been meaning to read this for a while.” 

“The historical lineages of the Dornish?” The prince’s voice was skeptical. 

“Yes,” Sabryna sat down across from Rhaegar and began to flip through the book. The prince did not return to his work however, he simply stared at her. 

“My father might be the King, but he is a fool to trust you,” He said suddenly.

Sabryna flipped to another page in the book, “Is it wise of me to assume that you and Ser Arthur have come to this conclusion together?” Rhaegar said nothing. Sabryna continued, “Because I would commend you if that is indeed the truth. You would be wise to be cautious of strangers here, my prince. Trust is rare, and I understand that I am new to you. But know this, I will not lie to you, Prince Rhaegar. It is not in my nature.” 

“Forgive me if I’m not inclined to believe you.” Rhaegar continued to stare daggers at her. Sabryna wondered why he did not just command her to leave; it was easily done and there was no way she could refuse an order from the crown prince. Her hazel eyes glanced at the papers, and that was when she noticed that not a single book Rhaegar had taken from the shelves was open. He had built a wall around him not to read, but to protect the parchment that lay before him. He was reading his letters, and he wanted to be left alone. 

Sabryna rested her face in her hands as her elbows leaned on the table, “Why are you in the library? It’s not for the books, I expect. It’s a cover for something, isn’t it?” her hands moved quickly and snatched up the letter Rhaegar was reading from the table. It was a risky move, but seeing as the prince had not exercised his power over her yet, she hypothesized that he would not do so now. She was right. “From Essos,” she quickly skimmed the contents of the letter. It was written in Valyrian. She was only on the second line when Rhaegar ripped the letter from her hands, but Sabryna did not forget what she had seen written in the letter.  _ Timpa Voktys,  _ White Witch. “Gossiping about me, are we?” 

“That is my business, and if you refuse to respect that I will have to ask you to leave,” the momentary flare of his temper settled and he sank back into his chair. Sabryna looked at him, and he looked back at her. 

“Forgive me, my prince. Varys often tells me that I act before I think. It will not happen again,” Sabryna glanced up at him and saw Rhaegar’s eyes falter for a moment. She knew he would not ask her to leave.

Then he looked back down at the letter and his gaze hardened, “You know I pitied you when you first arrived,” Sabryna raised her eyebrows, even though she still remembered Rhaegar’s impulse to help her up when King Aerys had thrown her to the ground, “A little girl from the free cities who was sucked into Varys’ spy ring,” Rhaegar continued, “But now I think you deserved my father’s humiliation.” 

“I don’t know if I agree with you.” 

“But I think you will,” Rhaegar picked up the letter, “you and Varys aren’t the only ones with spies in Essos. When my father told me he was appointing Varys to be his Master of Whispers, I had some reservations, but when I found out that the White Witch would be accompanying him, that changed things. I know what you are.” 

“And what am I, my prince?” Sabryna braced herself for what Rhaegar was about to say, she was not disappointed.

The prince looked at her bitterly, “You’re a murderer.” 

Sabryna’s expression remained calm, “I never kill for myself, and never without cause.” 

“An assassin then. I don’t care what you are but you have no place here. You are a danger to everyone in the castle and I will not rest until you are either dead or sent back to whichever free city you came from.” 

She saw the dragon’s fire begin to flame once again, but she met his frustration with her own tranquility. “My prince, have you ever slain a man in battle?” 

Rhaegar faltered for a moment, “We are living in a time of peace, there have been no wars for me to do battle in.” 

“And do you realize that you are perhaps the only high standing man within these walls who can admit to such a thing? Those before you have fought, my prince. They have risked their life and limb to get by and protect the things they believe in. You know what they say,” Sabryna paused and let a cat-like smile creep onto her face, “you kill one man, you’re a murderer. Kill 100, you’re a lord and kill a thousand, you’re a god.” Rhaegar looked at her, but Sabryna could not discern anything in his dark violet eyes. They merely stared, inspecting her for any hint, any breath of suspicion that was more dangerous than she appeared to be. 

“Which one are you?” 

Sabryna laughed. It was full and without restraint, and the tones of her voice echoed off of the tall shelves in the library. The prince remained silent as Sabryna quieted, “What have your little spies told you?” Again, Rhaegar said nothing, “Well no matter what it is, do not falter in which of their opinions you choose to believe. Too many whispers in one ear and you cannot understand a single one.” 

“If you have nothing to give me but spying advice, I think I’d like to be alone now.” Sabryna raised her pale brows. He was exercising power over her. Before he has hesitated, not wanting to command her to do anything, even when she had stolen the letter from his hands, something that if it was done to King Aerys, the offender would have been dead 10 minutes ago. But now Sabryna had touched a nerve, she knew which once it was. She had insulted his strategy. She stood and pushed the heavy Dornish volume back to the center of the table. 

“As you wish, my prince,” she turned and walked, her white robes billowing out behind her. Before she rounded the corner, she paused, “Prince Rhaegar, you asked me which one I was, a man, a lord, or a god. Since you wished for an answer you shall have it. I am not a man, I am a woman. I am not a lord, I’ve been an orphan for as long as I can remember, and I am not a god, but I am a witch.”


End file.
